


Hidden Talents

by widgenstain



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom!Charles, Dubious Consent, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Modern AU, agencies don't work like that, author's first fic, me trying to english, no powers, things are seldom what they seem, unbetaed, well... kinda...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widgenstain/pseuds/widgenstain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompted by <a href="http://widgenstain.tumblr.com/post/39080641311/widgenstain-groovyhornbill-merry-christmas"> this</a> photoset.</p><p>Charles is a struggling actor, Erik a sleazy agent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Charles was running. His umbrella somewhere on the tube, the rain drenching him to the bones. But he had to get to the agency, he was late already. Stupid public transport. The office was in a modern, soulless building, all glass and gloss. ‘Lensherr Talents’ written on a stainless steel plate in the foyer. 

“Excuse me Madam, I’ve got an appointment with Mr Lensherr at half four. Would you mind ringing him that I’m here?”

It was so terribly humiliating to do this all over again. He was a star. Well, almost. He’d been Iago, Mercutio, Yasha, Gerald Arbuthnot and Brick. The Guardian critics had ~~mentioned~~ loved him. Now he was back to being a nobody, he didn’t even have an agent. Just because his last one had found him fucking her Spanish boy toy on her office desk. It even hadn’t been the first time that this had happened. As if it was his fault that so many of Emma’s playthings turned out to be gay at some point. If he’d known that she cared a little more for Janos than for the rest, he would have kept his dick tugged away instead of sticking it places it didn’t belong. Especially if he’d known that she would flip out, babble something about an engagement ring and make all the other theatre agencies, no scratch that, the whole London theatre scene shun Charles for all eternity.  
In his unemployment despair he considered doing TV. Some floppy haired ingénue that died a lot in a soon-to-be-cancelled BBC show wouldn’t be beneath him. But there was no chance the Broadcasting Company would hire him as long as Shaw was in charge. Old family feuds were a pain in the arse. 

“You could always try Channel…” Alex didn’t even finish his inane suggestion. 

“Or commercials. Like Azazel did. Get some camera experience and try to get into films.” 

Oh God, even the mentioning of the Russian’s name angered Charles. All three of them had been in the same class, still Charles was the only one who took acting as the serious art that it was. Azazel couldn’t even speak proper English, for crying out loud. This, however, didn’t keep him from getting a nation-wide commercial deal and subsequently a very profitable string of villainous roles here and across the Atlantic. No, there was no way that he would do commercials. 

Only that there was. Three months after the talk in the pub where Alex bartended he was desperately looking for work. In those three months he certainly hadn’t auditioned for some crappy TV-stations (too short, too young looking, too old, his Scottish accent wasn’t good enough…), still, commercials suddenly seemed more appealing. And if there was one agency that could get him into the business it was ‘Lensherr Talents’. It had taken quite some time to get an appointment with the man himself and many favours from the few people he had some left. Now he was late. 

“Take the lift to the sixth floor, he will see you in a minute.”

“Thank you!”

The office was as modern and cold as the whole building. As was the gruff voice that greeted him. 

“You’re late. Usually I do not tolerate tardiness. It is your luck that I didn’t have any plans for later Mr Xavier…” Lensherr looked up from his desk and his voice trailed away. 

He didn’t look like he belonged in the slick room. Too skinny for an ill-fitting dark blue suit, hair sloppily greased back, teeth yellow from too many cigarettes and a heavy Polish, or was it German, Charles could never tell, accent. Not your typical up-and-coming city boy. 

“You’re wet.”

“Uhm yes, I’m terribly sorry. There has been a problem with the tube. I ran the last stops.”

“Don’t drip on the carpet.”

Charles quickly discarded his completely soaked coat. Not that it helped much. Lensherr gazed at Charles’ shirt that had gone transparent and stuck to his skin. 

“I’ve got something dry…” 

The man walked to a wardrobe at the back of the spacious office. He produced a jacket with a faked lamb-skin inner lining and threw it to Charles. Not sure what exactly to do with it he just simply waited and stared.

“Well? Put it on! If I remember correctly you wanted to talk to me about something.”

“Yes Sir.” Carefully he began to take off the shirt. He has never been coy, he’s been naked on a stage for Christ sakes, but he felt a little uncomfortable stripping in front of the man he needed so urgently. Especially if said man never took his gaze off him. 

“Shoes too.”

When he finally sat in the chair across from Lensherr it took quite a lot of his acting training to keep up the calm demeanour. Superiority is the key, he has to want you, everyone does, show your confidence…

“I’ve read the CV you’ve sent me. Quite impressive. May I ask why you want to go into commercials now?” 

“I love the stage, but I’ve always seen myself more in front of a camera. There is great art to be found in the advertising short form. I’d love to explore this more.” 

Charles was very proud of how convincing he made his lie sound. Lensherr just grinned. 

“Is that so? Well, I see that you have parted with your former agency… Why?” 

With all the bluntness he definitely had to be German.

“Personal differences. Nothing of greater importance. We just drifted apart slowly.” 

“Ah… And you expect this not to happen with me?” 

Actually no. He didn’t know what Lensherr was into; girls, boys, transvestite Lithuanian hookers, he only knew that the man was far too scary for him to try anything with his significant other. 

“Certainly not. I mean, I don’t know you too well yet, but I highly doubt that same problems will occur.”

Lensherr’s grin widened, showing off a long row of yellow teeth. Uneasiness didn’t cover the feeling in Charles’ chest the slightest. 

“So tell me, what do you think will occur? What do expect of this partnership?” 

“I know first-hand that you are a very influential man in this business and I would love to benefit from your expertise. In course I would offer my talents, my work ethic and my professionalism.”

“Your talents and professionalism…” 

The amused way Lensherr said those words let Charles fear that the man knew more than he cared for. Please, please no… he needed a job! Another month and his savings would be gone. And he without doubt wouldn’t turn back and rely on the family fortune. He could hear his mother say ‘I told you so’ while Raven shoved her economics MA into his face. ‘If you’d gone with genetics this wouldn’t have happened. Or done something useful like your sister…’ NO! He needed this and if it came down to it he’d beg. But don’t show anything yet. Face proud despite his wet hair and naked chest he said:

“Yes. You’ve read my CV, you know what I could bring into a potential enterprise.”

“Oh yes, I do.” 

Lensherr suddenly stood up and walked to a window. Charles couldn’t but notice the impressive width of his shoulders and the, in contrast, tiny waist, even under the ghastly suit. And the nice ass.

“The problem is that I don’t think you are what is demanded in ads right now. You seem a very intelligent, well-bred man. You usually play aristocrats. People need something they can relate to; I’m looking for more earthy types. More working class, you see?” 

“I could do that!” Charles spluttered out, completely disregarding the blatant classism the man showed. And his confident façade. 

“Oh, I believe that you’re a great actor, it’s just with your looks…” another lingering gaze to his chest “and your accent I’m not sure if I could find you something…” 

“Please, please try!” There, he’d done it. Used the p word. 

Even with his back to him he could tell that Lensherr was smiling. The tall man enjoyed the view from his office window for a while in silence, then walked over to the couch in corner and sat down.

“There is one thing…”

“Yes?!” he couldn’t ban the nervousness from his voice and reverted to his old habit of biting his lips. 

“I’ve been contacted about a Land Rover commercial… if they tweaked it a little I could picture you…” 

“This would be perfect! I could do that! What do I have to do to convince you?” 

“Two things,” the amused tone in Lensherr’s voice grew thicker “First: this is our only collaboration. I get you this gig then you’re on your own feet again. Don’t look so much like the wet puppy you are, it’s incredibly well paid. Secondly:” and with that the agent’s eyes unmistakeably were focused on Charles’ lips “you’re nice to me. Show me some of the talents you didn’t include in your CV.”

What? Charles was a little dumbfounded. Did he mean?  
No… No! 

“I… what?... uhm…” Wide-eyed he watched the man recline on the sofa. 

“I know that you want the job. Come on and get it.” 

And with that he spread his legs and smiled the dirtiest deep-sea predator smile Charles had ever seen.


	2. Chapter 2

He blinked. The man had to be joking! This was outrageous. A big part of him screamed Sexual Harassment and ‘give that bastard a law-suit that will leave him penniless’. What the hell was this guy thinking?! As if he’d even consider that! 

However…

A small part whispered the mantra ‘Raven, mother, unemployment’ while a significantly bigger part just laughed.  
A puckish little voice reminded him that if he’d met Lensherr in a club he’d probably sucked him for a drink. Hell, if the guy got a little make-over that made him look less obviously like the sleazy bastard he was, he very likely would have PAID FOR the drink before he sucked him off. He let his gaze trail over the wiry body, remaining a while on the bulge between the legs. Fuck that. He probably would hate himself the next morning, but then, he’d been in dodgier situations. If the creep wanted to play this game, he was ready. It was only sex after all. Unlike business and money he knew his way around in that area. 

He reached for his wallet, got the aluminium wrapper out and said, voice steady and calm:

“Only with a condom; I have bad gums and I don’t know who all slavers over this in a workweek. I’ll get the commercial contract without your fee; it’s only one time anyway. If you betray me, I’ll expose you as the pervert you are. Don’t try anything shifty and under no circumstances touch my ears.”

He’d be damned if he couldn’t keep this on his turf.  
In two smooth movements he slid the jacket off and on his knees between Lensherr’s legs. The agent was completely baffled. He clearly had expected more resistance.  
Owlishly he looked at the man currently running short, strong fingers over his clothed crotch. 

“Do we have an agreement?”

“Uhm…” he coughed, forcing the pitch of his voice lower again “yes, that should be alright…”

“Good.” Charles attention was focused. 

He swatted away the long fingers trying to undo the fly with a tsk tsk noise. 

His mouth, his terms. 

Heightening the pressure he let his hands wander over the trousers, palming Lensherr’s genitals through the cloth.  
Hello-oh! Somebody had been gifted by old Mother Nature! Yeah, he definitely would have paid for the drink.  
But the bastard didn’t have to know about that. Massaging what he’d just found he looked up and gave his best derisive smirk. Lensherr had his arms on the back of the couch again, but his laboured breath deceived his seemingly composed condition. As did his blown pupils that couldn’t avert themselves from Charles. When he got him so hard that it must have been uncomfortable, he opened the button and worked down the trousers. 

“Lift your feet…” he wanted them fully off. 

“What? Why? What are you doing?”

“Better access…” 

He pulled the man closer by his hips and drove the lean, naked legs further apart. Lensherr squirmed a little.  
Damn straight guys, asking for his hands or mouth while being completely terrified that he might try something else…

“Don’t worry I’m not going to fuck you…”

Lensherr’s cock jumped at this. 

Oh. 

Maybe not so straight after all. 

Charles spat on his right hand and got to work. 

“Okay?” 

Lensherr only nodded. Judging by the colour of what was slipping in and out of Charles’ fist there wasn’t enough blood left upstairs to form coherent speech.

“Enough… enough…hnnnnn… go on.”

Charles smirked again, opened the rubber and rolled it over the other man’s dick. One of his party tricks was to do this with his lips, but only the ones who worked for it got to see it.  
He licked over the latex, tentatively at first, then opened his mouth and took him in. For that he had to get closer, leaning his weight on the tosser’s thighs and hips, thus pressing him into the sofa, successfully keeping him from bucking up. If he’d let the guy fuck his face it would be over sooner, but this was more fun. He couldn’t go all the way down, even if he relaxed his throat, his hand taking over on the last inches in twisting motions. Lensherr, Erik it had said on the business card, groaned. The man certainly didn’t try to stifle anything. Nice… 

Charles let his tongue go wide and relaxed, softly engulfing the underside of the shaft as his head moved up and down. On the tip he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. It earned him a hitched cry. With his left hand he stroked the inner thighs, tickled the loose skin of Lensherr’s balls, drew his thumb over the perineum and pressed…

“What… unngghhh…. what… Oh fuck…”

Good, the bastard was getting off on this. Charles knew he could be an insufferable arse sometimes, but he was nothing but a generous lover. That was why he didn’t understand why Karma always decided to punish him in this field. You see this Karma? Nothing can bring Charles Xavier down, not even being pressured into sexual favours. Giving this guy the best blow-job of his sorry-ass life was his way of showing Karma the middle-finger! Apropos middle-finger… 

He clenched his lips around the tip for a second before he pulled off.

“Why? No! Go back…”

He exchanged the long cock with his finger and made sure that he was getting enough saliva on it. He hadn’t thought that this was possible, but Lensherr’s eyes grew even rounder at the display.

“Are you going to… no, no” 

Charles splayed open the almost inexistent lower parts of the man’s arse-cheeks (where the hell did this man keep his fat-reservoirs?) and circled his hole. 

_“Oh Gott…”_

This was all kinds of unhygienic, but that didn’t keep Charles from pushing in to the second knuckle, eliciting a small, slightly pained moan from Lensherr. One that quickly turned into a full-blown lustful moan when he nibbled and sucked on his balls. 

_“Gott… hgggnnnhhh, das darf nicht wahr sein…Scheiße…“_

Charles took him back in and the last rest of Lensherr’s restraint went out the window. He groaned and moaned unabashedly. Hands in Charles’ thick, moist, brown locks pressing against the back of his head. Charles obliged, moving faster and further, synching the drive of his finger to it. Tongue now merely covering the teeth he hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard, lips clenching tight. He could tell how close Lensherr was by the trembling of his lower abdomen and the hands helplessly grasping at his hair and naked shoulder. Just a little more…  
He hummed in anticipation and that was it. The man shouted hoarsely and pulsed into the condom held firmly in Charles’ mouth.

He slumped back out of breath and didn’t even make a single sound of complaint when Charles drew out his digit and swiped it demonstratively at the other man’s trousers. They were atrocious anyway. Charles ran his fingers through the slowly drying hair, got up, took the filled rubber off and threw it in the wastepaper basket under the desk. 

“That was… dear Lord…”

“Incredible? Good to know that one of us already got what he wanted from this meeting. When will I meet the Land Rover people?”

The agent clasped his hands over his face. Out of shame or exhaustion, one couldn’t tell.

“Friday… You have to go up to Coventry... their HQ is there… 11:30am… The man’s name is George Clayton…” 

“Good. Any surprises waiting for me there?”

“No…” 

It definitely was embarrassment. 

“I’m…I…” Long pause. “Just show up. I’ll get you the deal…”

“Excellent. If you excuse me, I’ve got other business to attend to. I’m keeping this” he put the jacket back on and closed it “and this.” He took an umbrella from Lensherr’s umbrella stand. 

“See you on Friday.” 

And with a last forced condescending look, coat and wet shirt over his arm, he was out of the room.

In the visitors bathroom in the back of the lobby he washed his hands and rinsed the taste of lubricant and latex from his mouth. He was hard. Had been since Lensherr had started moaning like a porn star.  
But now was not the time.  
Plus Moira would behead him if he told her that he wanked off in a public toilet after being submitted to something she couldn’t but see as sexual exploitation. She would call him a traitor in the cause against professional masculine hegemony. Or an incorrigible slut. Depending on with how many sexist pigs she had had to deal during her shift. 

He combed his hair. Aside from his deep red lips in midst of his ginger stubble he looked like nothing had happened. Moira… he promised that he’d call her if he got a job. She would be overjoyed! Probably it was wiser if he didn’t tell her how… the woman already knew too much about his private life.


	3. Chapter 3

Charles didn’t hate himself the next morning. 

He felt rather unfazed the next day too. On Wednesday he slowly became fidgety. Not because a certain agent, mind you, no he feared the Land Rover people. What if they didn’t like him? What if they knew how much he didn’t like their product? His mother had driven him around in one of these mini tanks as a child; he couldn’t stand the loud fuel-guzzling monstrosities.  
What if he messed up any of the lines, he didn’t even have a script he could prepare, what if they noticed that he had no camera experience whatsoever? 

On Thursday all he wanted to do was getting pissed with Moira (she was the only one of his friends who paid the whole night), but she was on a night shift, so he stayed home stuffing himself with cheap banana chocolate cake. This at least wouldn’t give him a murderous headache up on his way to Coventry. Just a feeling of guilt and a nervous check in the toilet on the train, if he’d developed a gut. 

Lensherr picked him up at the station. He’d seen the tall skinny man from afar. Their greeting could be less awkward but it wasn’t as bad as Charles had ~~hoped~~ feared. The man obviously had recouped from his embarrassment and treated him as cool and indifferent as he probably would any business acquaintance.  
In front of the marketing office door (another modern building with maybe a little more soul than Erik’s) he asked him:

“Are you alright?”

Charles shook his head.

“Nervous. I always am at those things…”

“Don’t worry. I’ve promised you the job and I’ll get it for you. Leave the talking to me, look interested and if asked something include ‘Land Rover’ often with your nice trained actor voice.”

Charles cocked an eyebrow. Had that been a compliment? 

The meeting went without any complications. Despite Lensherr’s greasy looks, he was incredibly competent. Precise, well-spoken and self-assured he made it sound as if Charles was the priced stallion of his stable and the company would be completely insane not to bet on him. The only things Charles had to do were nod and answer some light question about his career. Which was a topic he could go on about charmingly enthusiastically. 

Back on the outside, with an advertisement deal in his pocket that paid more than his last four theatre engagements put together, Lensherr offered to drive him back to London, but Charles politely declined.  
Even if he had upheld his part of their ‘agreement’ he didn’t trust the man. He couldn’t read him.  
On one hand he was this accurate, confident, no-nonsense business man, on the other hand he’d ~~persuaded~~ forced him to blow him in his office. Only to be completely flustered by and clearly ashamed of it.  
While he was looking out of the window onto the passing landscape he caught himself wondering which side he could like better. 

 

The shoot took place somewhere in the Highlands in the back of beyond.  
The ads ‘storyline’ went like ‘rich and well-meaning father brings home his family in his trustworthy car before going off to the wilderness to find himself by soulfully staring afar’.  
Charles was shaven and dolled up in expensive slacks and silken shirts which let him almost freeze to death in the damp Scottish cold. But he would stay focused. The initial fear of the cameras overcome (It wasn’t that hard. Hell, Azazel could do it and the man had disappeared during one of their class’ performances without a trace, only to show up trapped in the backstage staircase stinking of alcohol a few hours later) he let his natural arrogant look and his trademark raised eyebrow roam free and the director soon was head over heels in praise. 

Lensherr, Erik, was there as well, out of his usual suit in a more casual look. He’d been at the driveway where Charles had kissed his fake wife good-bye the day before too. And at the studio where they shot the ‘driving’.  
Charles couldn’t remember Emma ever paying this much attention to any of her clients, but maybe things were different in the advertising business. 

The two men didn’t talk much and if, it was shortly and in a civil tone. No mentioning of any performed services. Instead Lensherr observed the working conditions, coolly commented on some discrepancies in the time table before fixing them and seemed completely unimpressed by Charles tight shirt or his sleek styled hair. Or the red lips he bit whenever he could, definitely not to see if it had any effect on the other man. 

Then Charles caught the agent checking out his bottom one time in the rear-view mirror of ‘his’ car. So the bastard is interested he thought, bending over to give the man a better look, peevishly satisfied with the low gasp he wasn’t supposed to hear. At the last day, back in London, after recording the last lines of the voice-over, Lensherr speedily approached him. In his hands he held a bundle of papers. Charles, still on the high of having successfully accomplished this task, couldn’t but beam at him. 

“Mr Xavier, do you have a minute?” 

“For you Mr Lensherr I have five.”

“Well… chrm… First of all I would like to congratulate you, that was terrific!” 

“Thank you very much.”

“And… secondly…”

Lensherr tried to play it cool, but Charles could spot the cracks in the front. All the intense, brooding looks couldn’t hide it. There he was again, the anxious stammering boy. Like a bright light behind painted glass. Just that now he was dressed in some lovely blue-jeans which didn’t leave much to the imagination (not that Charles needed it, he knew that Lensherr was well-endowed from close personal experience) and a doubtlessly better fitting grey sweater.  
Half unconsciously Charles licked his lips, all of a sudden sending a flush to Lensherr’s cheeks by doing so.  
He grinned inwardly. 

“… secondly I would like to ask if you would consider becoming one of my full-time clients. With a proper contract.”

“Excuse me? I thought that this was a onetime thing?”

“I know… I mean I thought so too, but this was really good… much better than most of my other actors and… I thought… maybe… Just tell me if you’d consider. I mean I’ve got the papers already” he waved the files in his hand “but… you don’t have to… I’d be honoured to work with you again.” 

“Work?”

Lensherr blushed.

“Yes work. Only work is what I mean.” 

Charles ran his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t expected that.  
The offer was interesting, no doubt, there was a lot of money to be made between the two of them, but he didn’t exactly understand what had brought all this on. After a while he tugged Lensherr deeper into the deserted coffee kitchen of the recording studio and went:

“Would you mind explaining me one thing: you accept to meet me when you hear that I need a job. You know that I’m good at what I’m doing, yet you pretend to refuse me unless… unless I’m ‘nice to you’. After you behave like a timid maiden and now, now that you’ve seen that I can earn my feed, you ask me to shake hands with you. Can you see where my problem is? Why? How did you think this whole thing would play out?”

Lensherr looked down on the tips of his shoes, then sucking in a deep breath before curtly, like he was angry with himself, spatting out:

“I didn’t think you’d do it…”

“Do what?”

“IT… I didn’t think you’d take up the whole casting-couch thing. Yes I knew you were coming, I even knew you were desperate and I wanted use that against you. I thought you’d beg me not to do this, I thought you’d be mortified and would leave without getting anything. But you didn’t even flinch. I wanted to see you humiliated but the only one humiliated was me, behaving like a dirty back-alley creep…” 

Charles needed a while to take this in. 

“Why would you want to humiliate me?”

Lensherr sighed. 

“I don’t know… Revenge?”

“What for? I have never met you in my life before.”

“No you haven’t. But I did. Or almost did. I used to know your former agent very well, she talked about you quite often... And I’ve seen you in two plays. ‘The Cherry Orchard’ and ‘Cat on a Tin Roof’. You were great.”

For once Charles didn’t notice the flattery.

“You knew Emma?” 

“Yes… we used to date. She cheated on me. With you. Amongst others.”

Charles was speechless. What was the man talking abo-… Slowly his brain supplied the memory.  
After a party, both completely pissed, a flat in all the white colours an interior design catalogue had to offer, a cream sofa, him going down on Emma… His arsehole brain was even able to recall how she moaned about him being so much better at this than ‘that serious German prick’… Oh. Ohhhhh… 

“You were dating Emma? I thought you were gay.”

“I am. Usually. At that time I just had come out of a dreadful relationship and convinced myself that I needed to try it with a woman. And Emma… you know, she’s got something…” 

Charles couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Yes, she tends to have an effect on gay men…” 

Lensherr crooked a smile too. There was a little of the sharp business man again.

“Still, the one thing you come up with to take revenge on her is to make ME suck you off in your office? What kind of a plan is that?”

Lensherr threw his hands up

“I know!”

“At first I didn’t want to receive you. I mean, I don’t hold a particular grudge against you, you were one of many and I wasn’t in love or anything, but… uunngghh… I never got back at her, but you did by fucking this ridiculous Spanish himbo, yes I know about that, and parts of me wanted to thank you while others just screamed for payback. All I wanted to do was to reject you, be cold and professional which basically is my MO for everything, but then you came in my door all wet and transparent and hopeful and something just short-cut and I started mixing my vengeance with some of my fantasies… Be mean to you, be mean to her… I don’t know. I just didn’t expect you to go for it. But you did and I felt like the biggest fool.”

Charles barely could contain the _which you probably are_. 

Erik was sitting on one of the kitchen stools face between his hands looking completely done with everything.

“And do you want to know the worst part? I like you… I like your work I mean… chrm… When I heard that you and Emma had parted ways I’d expected every theatre agent to jump at the chance to take you in. You’re astonishing.”

Keep talking.

“It’s only confirmed after this. I’ve got a chance at working with someone who I think is truly talented, believe me, that’s rarer than one would assume, and I blow it by pulling this stupid stunt. I’ve never done anything this idiotic in my life and I feel terrible. I also feel genuinely sorry for insulting you.”

Was that an apology? Charles really tried to stay serious and angry at the man, but he couldn’t. Good-looking , there he’d admit it, Germans rarely apologised to him. Generally people tended not to do that.

“Ok, this definitely might be one of the stranger stories I’ve heard, and I’ve heard a few… But I choose to believe you. Don’t worry so much and consider yourself forgiven.”

God, did being magnanimous feel good!

“If you give me a good deal in our contract.”

“…You want it? You’d do it?”

“Yeah, you said it yourself that this commercial was a very pleasant experience and I think we could make it work.” 

Plus it had helped to be called truly talented. People tended to that even less than apologise if Charles was honest.  
“ _Oh ja, Spitze_! Great, great. I like that. Do you want to sign it now? Or, oh, we definitely should do this in better surroundings… And get something to toast on this!”

The man looked so excited it was almost adorable.

“Those fantasies you were speaking of before…”

Lensherr lifted his head

“Hm? Oh, this is embarrassing… nothing depraved I promise you. Just the usual, you know, you got your own new office, sometimes you’re bored, you start thinking of doing it in there…” his voice trailed off as he saw Charles’ leer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Charles in costume I was thinking about [this](http://ishouldbebritish.tumblr.com/post/28091213776/ohthisphotoshoot-james-mcavoy-details) btw :)


	4. Chapter 4

They stumbled into the office. The building deserted, Lensherr’s Honda in the company’s parking garage, no one there to care about the two men sucking on each other’s faces.

They had needed a few tries. Lensherr was very liberal with the use of his tongue, Charles preferred to work on his partners’ lips before. But when they got into a groove it was perfect.  
The light taste of cigarettes, the sharp teeth biting his lower lip, mouth wet open and ready and the tall lanky body Charles could push to the desk so easily. 

“You have a thing for desks, don’t you” the agent chuckled.

“It’s usually more about the person I bend over them, but yes, desks are great..”

Lensherr groaned and pulled Charles closer, big hands now spread over the taut curve of his arse. He sat down on the robust monstrosity of office furniture.  
Probably made in Germany. Charles liked things made in Germany. Especially when he could feel their lean muscles through their shirts and get his hips between their spread legs. 

“So Mr Xavier… I’ve been courting you for weeks now. You’ve denied all my attentions so far. Is there anything left a man could offer to get an advertising star like you to sign a contract?”

Charles barely could keep his face straight, but then he coughed raised his eyebrow and said:

“Well, I’m a busy man Mr Lensherr…”

“Erik, call me Erik.”

“Erik… but I might consider… if you diverted your attentions into a different direction…”

“Anywhere! Anything you want.”

Erik affected the most exaggerated pleading voice Charles had ever heard. They couldn’t stop themselves and burst out laughing.  
A laugh that quickly was silenced with another deep kiss. He moved in as close as he could get, their groins touching, the friction making the seated man growl.  
His arse got another, almost possessive, squeeze. 

“First of all I think we will have to get you out of this shirt…”

Erik couldn’t undo his buttons quicker while Charles revelled in the sight.  
Their faces were on one level, now that Erik was sitting and the small actor immediately made use of the easier access to Erik’s jaw, his ears, his neck… He sucked a deep hickey into it, Erik moaning at the sting, fingers desperately trying to get Charles’ shirt open too.  
Once they’d discarded their clothes they were back to snogging the living hell out of each other. The warm bodies pressed together, gasping at the feel of naked skin.  
Lensherr, Erik, was gorgeous. He’d known that he would be trim, he’d seen this much already and he did have a rather athletic build, but to see those wide shoulders in close-up… and to trail his fingers down the muscled flanks to this tiny tiny waist.  
He was sure he could close his hands around if he tried. Humming approvingly he clutched it causing the agent to gasp and close his legs behind his back.  
He ground their still boxer-clad cocks together, eliciting sweet gasps from Erik.  
Oh, he remembered how loud the man got the last time and he was determined to make him outdo himself this time. Sucking on the skin over Charles collar bones while rhythmically kneading the globes of his arse Erik muttered:

“God… I want you to fuck me…”

Charles bit the gape of his neck, grinding down harder than before…

“You’ve got something?”

“…No…”

“Me neither…”

“There’s some hand-lotion…” 

Erik leaned back, stretched out over the desk to get to the top drawer on the other side. Dear lord it was a view! All muscles visible under tanned soft skin, working together to hold the body up while he searched for the lotion… Nature was bloody beautiful. 

“Stay!”

He pushed the man down, kissing his chest, taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking biting it to change the confused look on Erik’s face into a half-lidded lustful one. Trailed his tongue over the prominent pectorals into the belly button, bit the tiny amount of lose skin around it before he pulled down Erik’s pants to lick the cock that jut free. 

“Charles…?... oh god… _ja_ …”

He took only the tip in sucking softly, teasing the rest with his fingers (circumcised… already wondered the last time, he’d ask him about this later). 

Erik tried to buck his hips while Charles grinned as well as he could with a dick in his mouth. He toyed with his balls, stroking the spot behind them. 

“That’s not what… oh this feels good… take it deeper… please… please?” 

If he asked so prettily… He let the man slide deep into his relaxed throat a couple of times before he clenched his lips around the shaft, pulling off agonisingly slow. The desk would hold, he was certain, as he crawled on top of Erik. He kissed him demandingly; making sure that Erik could taste his own salty cock on Charles tongue, then rubbed his body against him again, trapping the saliva slick dick.

“Oh… oh… do something please…”

Charles grinned and continued to torture the other man with the friction that just wasn’t enough in his state of arousal. Nose buried in the gap behind the impressive jaw licking the stubbly skin he whispered

“I want to get off between your thighs. Would you mind? You’d have to get on all-fours for that…”he nipped at the man’s earlobe.

“Yes… yes… that’s fine.”

Erik scrambled up, careful not to haul Charles off him but still impatiently enough, and got down on the floor. Not before finally ridding Charles of his pants though, a sly and appreciative glint in his eyes. 

He kneeled on his spread out shirt and wriggled his small hips shooting Charles a smirk over his shoulder. 

“Well, Erik, after reviewing your last offer I think I can safely say that this will be sufficient…” 

Erik snorted.

Charles stroked himself quickly before he got down behind the other man. Licking up his spine and biting a spot between his shoulder blades.

“Sufficient and hopefully very satisfying” he whispered into Erik’s neck who swallowed thickly and bend over without the smallest amount of hesitation as Charles pushed him forward. He let his hands wander over the trained thighs, still spread, the small buttocks, the cleft in between…

“ _Du kleines Teufelchen_ … good God you’re a tease!”

Chares grinned and poured the hand-lotion on the small of Erik’s back. He gently massaged some of it in below his tailbone, spreading it further down. Erik gasped and clenched. This time Charles didn’t feel the imminent wish to hurt him (not even for a little) so he took his time before pushing a finger in. Just to the second ring, playing with it before he reached around with his slicked up right hand and began stroking Erik’s penis. 

Ah, there the moans were! 

“I want you… come on…fuck me...”

“You know this isn’t on the menu tonight, love… But close your legs…”

He got unbelievably tight before Charles could pull out his finger. Not this time, but soon…  
Charles suddenly was very clear about what he wanted to happen in the next weeks. 

He slathered more of the lotion between Erik’s thighs, he would smell brilliantly of calendula the next day, then pushed in. He started thrusting, timing the twitches of hand to it. Leaning forward most of his weight was now on Erik who rested his head on his forearms, steadying them on the floor. He thought of the rug burn he was just giving the man and smiled.  
Taken by Charles Xavier, visible for anyone who wanted to know. He bit him between the shoulder blades again, sucking at the bite to intensify the prickle and sped up his motions. Erik groaned unable decide if he wanted to press his hips back or buck into the slide of Charles’ finger. He let out a keening noise.

“Come on, I know you can do this better!”

He moaned, gave in to the sensation of another hand on his cock, and when Charles pulled back to let their bodies slap together with obscenely loud wet sounds, he spurted over his shirt and his stomach and everything that was amid. After the white was gone and the shudders receded he remembered to flex his thighs so Charles could push in hard, grunting his own release into his spine a minute later. 

They stretched out on the floor Charles drowsy and still on top of Erik, gently kissing him. Then he rolled off, spooning him on the office carpet. 

“You know,” Erik said sated and lazy “I could get used to this kind of toasting to a new contract…”

Charles grinned.

“Don’t even think about it. But we could include alcohol tomorrow, when you buy me dinner…” 

“I’ll buy you dinner?”

“Yep, I like Thai or Japanese by the way.”

Erik looked back over his shoulder into the misleadingly innocent baby-blues for a few seconds.

“Alright, Japanese it is.”

Taking Charles hand to his chest he cuddled into the small big spoon, hiding a smile in his biceps. 

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Charles? Is eet you comrade?”

“Azazel? Why are you calling me at four in the morning?” 

Erik stirred next to him in the magenta sheets (yes, magenta, Charles hadn’t known if he should laugh or be endeared. At least his lover’s bad taste applied to all areas of his life. Except when it came to men of course. From now on at least.) 

“Oh, that’z what it is in London? Wasn’t sure about eet.”

“What’s going on?”

“Listen comrade, I’ve got this new job, I shouldn’t talk about eet yet, but I play an antanogonaist in the new ‘Jackman’ movie.”

Antagonist. The lucky bastard, Charles loved the ‘Jackman: singing hero’ series. Not just because of the main actor, but James Howlett definitely was a hunk.

“Congratulations!”

“Yes, yes… the thing is, they still need an actor for the main villain, a reech English professor in wheelchair. I immeeditly thought of you. I showed the casting people your commercial, the one with beeg ugly car. I’m calling for them. They love you and want to meet you.”

Charles nearly dropped his phone.

“Really?”

“Reely.”

“Oh my God Azazel! I don’t know how to thank you! Thank YOU SO MUCH!”

Now Erik was definitely awake, dopily squinting at the naked excited man next to him. 

“It’s okay comrade! No worries. Just give me number of your sister maybe. She still tough blond and preety?”

“Actually she dyes it red lately…”

“Even better! So I see you next Thursday in LA?”

Next Thursday in LA…

“Yes, yes of course! Bye!”

“Dosvedanya!”

Charles turned around, beaming at his sleepy boyfriend.

“Love, pack your things, we’re going to California.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> German translations:
> 
> Gott…das darf nicht wahr sein…Scheiße --> God, is this really happening (literally: this can't be true), shit. 
> 
> Oh ja, Spitze --> Yes, Awesome
> 
> Du kleines Teufelchen --> You little devil
> 
>  
> 
> Finished it! Thanks for reading!!  
> I appreciate every kind of comments. If it is you finding any mistakes, (constructive?) criticism or worshipping me, I'll take it XD


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